Eternal Punishment Barnabas and Willie
by ecinspired
Summary: I'm a new Dark Shadows lover. I've been watching the DVDs of the original series and I adore the Barnabas/Willie dynamic. I've taken some creative license with the details but the focus is on the relationship between the two men, and no, its not sexual. Complete story, please review!


**Eternal Punishment**

**Barnabas and Willie**

"Willie!"

"Willie!"

Willie Loomis stopped polishing silver and listened carefully to his master's bellowing. He'd become adept at deciphering the tone behind the call. Usually, it was mild irritation at some perceived slight. Whether or not that slight was on Willie's part or someone else's never seemed to matter. Barnabas Collins rarely showed his true emotions to anyone but Willie, and therefore they were usually transferred to Willie. Most of the time, Willie would stand and nod his head as Barnabas railed against the latest injustice he had endured. Willie knew as soon as Barnabas vented some steam, he would become distracted and move onto less turbulent topics.

But there were those times when the vampire's voice conveyed a more troubling tone. And those were the times that froze Willie solid. A fierce chill would creep up his spine and paralyze his entire being, save the hairs on the back of his neck that would take on a life of their own and stand at rigid attention. And save the uncontrollable trembling that was now a permanent component of Willie's makeup. Willie was unable to place the silver candlestick, nor the rag that now bore its tarnish, onto the kitchen table before him. A thick lump clogged his throat and his breathing quickened as the air flow became restricted.

His mind unfortunately suffered no restriction and raced freely, searching for the cause of the dread he now felt. What had he done to displease Barnabas? No, not displease, anger; for displeasure was a common occurrence he was accustomed to managing. Anger was something entirely different. Willie remembered the last time he had angered Barnabas…

After Maggie Evans escaped her basement prison, Barnabas had turned his attentions to Vickie Winters. He began scheming how to passive-aggressively mold Vickie into the next-generation Josette Collins. Barnabas was a highly intelligent being. Sometimes, his intelligence was overwhelmed by his uncontrollable animal instincts. His need for blood was paramount, and his lofty desires for eternal companionship were sometimes compromised by the blood lust. Willie lived in perpetual fear that those needs would cause Barnabas to attack Vickie Winters and abandon his plan to gradually massage her into his eternal companion.

Vickie had come to the old house to thank Barnabas for the gift of a book. The night was thick with storm clouds, the wind had roiled up, and thunder was already making its presence known. After a brief conversation, Barnabas had convinced Vickie she must spend the night; it was too treacherous outside for even the short walk through the woods back to the main house. Willie had been busy elsewhere in the house, and was unaware of Vickie's presence. When he later returned to the front parlor and she descended the stairs, he was certainly surprised. He was also terrified. What was she doing there in the middle of the night? Where was Barnabas? Had he already begun the enslavement caused by sinking his canines into her neck? Thoughts like these usually reminded Willie of his own pitiful situation; how his greed and stubbornness led him into a nightmare beyond anything a child, or most adults, could conjure up. But this time he thought only of her.

"What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, in a voice much too loud to be safe. Vickie calmly explained about the book, the storm, and Barnabas' insistence she spend the night. Then she prattled on about Josette's room and how much she liked it. "Stupid fool," Willie thought. "You're playing right into his hands." But outwardly he only told her the folks at Collinwood might be worried about her. He offered to escort her home. His panic at her perilous situation made him forget that Barnabas was in the house, and could hear everything he was saying. Superior hearing was apparently one of the many enhanced attributes that came with being an ancient vampire. The only time Barnabas didn't hear everything was when he slept in his coffin, and even then Willie suspected he still knew what was going on. He seemed to always know.

Barnabas appeared in the foyer and was clearly angry that Willie was attempting to warn Vickie against him. But he maintained his customary polite manner and she was blissfully ignorant. She and Barnabas chatted for a bit, and then she returned to Josette's room for the rest of the night. Willie stood still and stared at Barnabas, wondering how bad a beating he was certain to receive. He was accustomed to being beaten, but it never got any easier. He did make a concerted effort to behave how Barnabas wanted, but that was not always possible. Sometime, Barnabas' commands required the cooperation of other people, and if they chose not to cooperate, Willie was the one punished.

Sometimes, Willie's human nature prevented him from complying with Barnabas' wishes. When Barnabas realized that Maggie Evans had attempted to destroy him, to drive a stake through his heart while he slept in his coffin, Willie risked everything to protect Maggie from the vampire's wrath. Barnabas had threatened to kill Willie, but instead, after locking Maggie away in the cellar, beat him with his ever-present cane. The gold and silver wolf head handle left deep, sustained bruises. It would have taken most men weeks to recover, but Barnabas needed Willie sooner than that. He made a small cut in his wrist, and forced Willie to drink the blood. He had done this before, and his blood always restored Willie to health in rapid fashion. Barnabas was careful; he never gave Willie more blood than needed. He never gave enough to give Willie powers or fashion him into one of his own' kind; only enough to maintain his control over Willie. As far as Barnabas knew there were no others like him, and he wanted to keep it that way until he was ready to take a bride. Rather, until a woman was ready to become his bride. Then, he would open his veins and pour his eternal life force into her.

But the night that Vickie stayed in the old house, to Willie's shock, Barnabas instructed him to stay and talk. "Talk?" Willie stammered; "you're not going to punish me?" Barnabas wanted to punish him. But his anger at Willie's feeble attempts to warn Ms. Winters was pushed aside by his internal turmoil. All his base instincts were compelling him to climb the stairs to Josette's room. To enter the room and close the door behind. To stride to the bed and hover above his sleeping houseguest. To reach out a hand, push her dark hair aside, and expose her throbbing jugular. To bare his fangs and lower his head. To sink his canine's into her and taste her sweet blood. To suck deeply and draw her essence into his body. To begin the process of controlling her, body and soul. But he knew it was the wrong course of action. He knew he had fumbled badly with Maggie Evans. He had bitten her soon after meeting her. He had taken away all her free will and she had only come to him because she was compelled to by forces beyond her control. Once she was in his realm, he had tried to woo her. He tried to convince her to take on the persona of Josette and to willingly become his bride. But the memory of how he had violated her would never leave her, and she fought him with every bit of strength she had left.

He didn't want to make the same mistake with Victoria Winters. He decided to court her like a mortal man would. She already shared his obsession with the past and with the Collins family. And she seemed to instinctively connect with the spirit of Josette. It was clear she admired Josette, and Barnabas didn't think it would be difficult to guide her into that role. And only when she was his, as a woman usually becomes one with a man, would he give her the gift of eternal life. So now, he needed Willie to distract him. But Willie was incapable of idle chatter, and he peppered Barnabas with inane questions about his intentions towards Vickie. Barnabas quickly tired of him and sent him to bed. It would be up to him to win this battle on his own. It was only once Willie was in bed that he realized he had escaped unscathed. He breathed deeply with relief; he would not feel the excruciating pain of Barnabas' wrath. At least he would not this night.

Willie's relief superseded his concern for Vickie, and he fell into a deep sleep. When he woke in the morning, he knew Barnabas would be in the coffin and he could delay his own perpetual fear for several hours. But his worry for Vickie could not be pushed aside. Even after seeing her descend the stairs once again, and being assured she'd spent an uneventful night, Willie could not seem to relax. In typical Willie fashion he asked one too many questions. Did she not experience anything during the night? When they had met on the stairs hours before, Vickie had told both Willie and Barnabas that she thought she'd heard a little girl singing in the house. Collectively, they determined she had been dreaming and the matter had been dropped. So Vickie knew Willie was not referring to that when he now asked her if anything had occurred.

She grew suspicious of his questions and his manner. He seemed quite nervous. In fact, she could not recall a time recently when he didn't seem nervous. He always seemed to be trembling; his eyes darting around and his speech quickening. His anxiety seemed enhanced this morning and it made her wonder what he was hiding. She admitted to him that she'd felt like someone had been in her room, but dismissed it as stemming from another dream. But his manner made her ask if _he _had been in her room. Willie's eyes widened and his voice amplified. He emphatically stated he had not gone near Josette's room, and kept repeating it until she gave in and accepted his denials.

After she left Willie tried to regain some composure. He didn't know which scared him more; that Barnabas had been in Josette's room while Vickie slept, or that Vickie might mention to Barnabas she suspected Willie had been there. Willie's persistent trembling increased. It would be easily believed. When he first came to Collinsport Willie had made strong, unwelcome advances to several of the local girls, Vickie included. If Barnabas thought he had gone near Vickie now, he would rain down such a punishment that Willie would beg for the wolf-head cane. Willie wanted to cry with desperation. "She wouldn't tell him that," he tried to assure himself through water-filled eyes and shallow breath. He hurried off to start his chores, praying he was right.

The next night passed with no anger; no punishment. Barnabas was quiet and Willie kept a wide berth. He wanted to ask if Barnabas had gone into Vickie's room, but didn't dare. For once, his better sense held his tongue. Barnabas did go out right after sundown but quickly returned. Willie assumed he had gone to feed, and preferred not to know if that were indeed the case. Most of the time, Barnabas found an animal to devour, or instructed Willie to find one for him. Animal blood was not as nutritious for Barnabas as human blood, but it did help him maintain a level of existence and power. Periodically, a report would appear in the morning paper that a person had been attacked, and Willie would know that the need for human blood compelled Barnabas to take the risk. He was careful to only drink enough to satiate his thirst; leaving the victim in a weak but recoverable state.

Sometimes, Barnabas would call for Willie to come to him and his tone gave away his intent. Barnabas would sit in his favorite arm chair and point to the floor before him. Willie would silently come forward, kneel and tilt his head to the side. Barnabas would lean forward and his teeth would penetrate Willie's flesh. The initial pain was the most intense. Once the blood started flowing out, it acted as an anesthetic and numbed the throbbing. Barnabas would drink for a moment, and then silently pull out and sit back in the chair, blood tricking from the corner of his mouth. Willie would stand, also in silence, and turn and leave the room. He'd walk slowly to the bathroom, his gate affected by the loss of blood. Once there, he'd clean the wounds, apply a bandage and head off to bed. He had no energy to do anything else.

When Barnabas emerged from his slumber the second night after Vickie's sleepover, Willie informed him a package had been delivered that afternoon. Willie had taken note it was from the leather shop in Collinsport. As Barnabas had no horses, Willie had wondered what he could have ordered. "Ah yes," Barnabas stated as he touched the box with his ringed index finger. "Something I ordered yesterday evening. That was quite fast, wasn't it?" "He must have wanted to impress you," Willie replied. "Because I'm a Collins? Yes, probably so." "Aren't you going to open it?" Willie inquired. Barnabas strode to his arm chair and took a seat. "No, I think I'll let you do that."

Willie shrugged and walked over to the table. He removed the brown paper wrapping and, crumpling it up, dropped it on the floor. Then he took hold of the box top with both hands and began to lift it up. A sense of foreboding overtook him; he instinctively knew he would not be pleased with the contents of the box. Barnabas noted his obvious discomfort. "Go ahead Willie; open it." Willie finally pulled the box top all the way off and dropped it to the floor as well. He was presented with the sight of tissue paper, and he momentarily relaxed. "Continue," Barnabas instructed. Willie lifted up the top fold of the paper and moved it aside. The unmistakable smell of leather filled his nostrils. The item was folded to fit in the box, and it took Willie several moments to decipher what it was. When he did, a scream rose in his throat. But the scream was choked by that restricting lump residing in his air passage.

"Bring it to me Willie," Barnabas commanded, his voice showing no signs of the lightness that had been there only moments before. Willie was both shaking and paralyzed, and while he was able to lift the whip from the box, he was unable to turn and walk towards his master. "Now!" Barnabas snapped. Willie's limbs began to move as if of their own accord, but he knew that wasn't the case. The vampire's power was controlling his body now. When he finally stood in front of Barnabas, he was relieved of the offensive object when Barnabas reached out and grabbed it. "Let me see it," he said, examining it carefully. The leather handle was hard and tightly wound. The three flowing lashes were thick with pointy ends. Barnabas stroked them and commented on the sensation. "It is quite strong, I think," he stated. "And quite sharp on the skin, I would imagine."

Willie's bladder threatened to release. There was only one reason Barnabas would have bought a whip. Vickie Winters must have said something to Barnabas about believing Willie was in her room. Willie found himself on his knees in front of the vampire. Barnabas ceased fondling the whip and looked at him curiously, "I didn't command you to kneel Willie. I will go out and feed later." Willie remained on his knees. "Get up Willie; what is the matter with you?" Barnabas inquired. But Willie could tell by his master's voice that he asked a rhetorical question and did not reply. "Oh wait," Barnabas teased cruelly; "could you be afraid of this whip Willie?" Willie shook and cried, tears trickling down his face. "Have you done something that would make you fear this whip Willie?"

Willie somehow found the muscular control to shake his head. And somehow found his voice. "No sir; I swear it. I've done nothing!" "Then leave me to study my new acquisition," Barnabas replied, returning his attention to the whip. Willie was stunned; was he to be spared Barnabas' wrath? As if released from an unseen tether, Willie was able to rise and leave the room. He hurried upstairs to his room, shut the door and tried to reach his bed. He fell short, and hit the floor as he passed out.

The next day Willie found a note from Barnabas, and the whip lying in its box on the kitchen table next to the note. He was instructed to put up a hook in the butler's pantry and hang the whip there, where it could be easily retrieved. Willie's empty stomach roiled with nausea. Barnabas had clearly obtained the whip to escalate the violence of Willie's punishments; but why? If it were due to Vickie's suspicions about the night she slept in Josette's room, Willie would have already felt it cutting his back. Barnabas never waited that long to dole out a punishment. So the whip must be there in anticipation of transgressions yet to come. Willie steadied himself and resolved to do nothing to warrant its use. He knew Barnabas would not give up his pursuit of Vickie Winters, but there was nothing to be done about that. Self-preservation could be the only thing guiding Willie's actions now.

Willie set about the chores of the day, and, still weary from the previous night's stress, stopped late that afternoon to take a nap. He set his alarm clock to alert him when the sun would be setting, which was about 7PM this time of year. He tried to be at Barnabas' side when he awoke, but couldn't always time it precisely. Not that the he enjoyed the site of the coffin opening, or of the vampire opening his eyes. But it seemed to please Barnabas to not have to search the house for his servant when he rose. This night, Willie was greeted with a question as soon as Barnabas had stepped out of his satin-clad resting place. "Did you get my note Willie?" "Yes Barnabas; I did just what you said." "You put up the hook?" "Yes." "And the whip is on the hook?" "Yes Barnabas." "And it's where we can easily retrieve it?" "Yes."

Barnabas studied Willie's face. He saw the ever-present tremble, but also saw something else he could only describe as resolve. "You are controlling yourself quite well tonight Willie." "I, I don't know what you mean," Willie stammered. "I mean, you want to ask me about the whip, but you are forcing yourself not to. It isn't often you can stop from asking irritating questions." "I want to do what you want Barnabas; I'm trying very hard." Barnabas felt sorry for the young man. He would never admit it to Willie, but he felt quite close to his servant. Without Willie, Barnabas' loneliness and despair would be unbearable. Willie was the one living creature who knew all about him. Barnabas didn't delude himself that Willie liked him in spite of what he knew, but he at least pretended to if only to appease the vampire and preserve his own life. "Well Willie, as long as you try to please me, you need never know the purpose of the whip." Willie actually felt hopeful Barnabas meant what he said.

It was the next morning when Willie realized hope was futile. Perhaps Barnabas wouldn't use the whip on him, but he had used it on someone. It wasn't hanging on its hook in the butler's pantry, which instantly caused Willie great concern. He searched the house in vain. Reluctantly, he went down to the basement, somehow knowing he'd find it there. After checking that Barnabas still slumbered in his coffin, Willie scoured the lower level. It wasn't until entering the room where Maggie Evans had been imprisoned that he saw it. It was on the bed where she once lay, and it looked different than when he first viewed it in the box. The color was different. It was no longer dark brown; it had a reddish hue. Bile rose up from Willie's stomach and hit that ever-present lump in his throat. The whip was crusted with blood…

…"Willie!"

"Willie!"

His remembrances cut short by his master's bellowing, Willie still stood with the candlestick in one hand, and the stained rag in the other. Barnabas' footsteps reached the kitchen. "Didn't you hear me calling you?" he demanded upon entering. "Yes Barnabas, I was just coming," Willie lied. He didn't have the muscular control to go anywhere. He had left the whip where he'd found it earlier in the day, and instinctively knew it was that which raised Barnabas' ire now. The state of the object had frightened Willie so much he didn't go down to be at Barnabas' side when he awoke. But he knew he could avoid the vampire for only so long.

"Turn around Willie." Willie's body complied. He faced Barnabas, still holding the candlestick and rag in his hands. "Put those down Willie." As commanded, he turned back to the table, lowered the items onto it, and then returned to his previous position in time to see Barnabas toss something onto the floor in front of his feet.

"Clean it off, and put it back where it belongs," Barnabas ordered. Willie looked down, already knowing what he'd see laying there. "Yes Barnabas," he managed to reply. Barnabas left the room. Willie bent down and reluctantly picked up the whip. He touched only the handle, trying to avoid the substance on the lashes, but soon realized the handle was not devoid of blood. He carried the object to the sink and placed it inside. As he began the gruesome task he tried to quiet his mind from the inevitable questions. Whose blood was it? What had they done to deserve such a horrible assault? Was Barnabas no longer satisfied feeding on his victims? Did he now want to inflict a more brutal pain on them as well? Where had Barnabas gone during the night while Willie slept? Did he go to the room in Collinwood where Vickie Winters resided? Did he use the ugly lash on her beautiful skin? Willie knew it unlikely he'd find answers to those questions, and not knowing would add torment to his already tortured existence.

Barnabas sat in his arm chair, reading a volume of the Collins family history. He had trouble concentrating on the words; he was thinking of his servant. He knew Willie would be wracked with anguish wondering how blood got on the whip. He knew Willie would invent numerous scenarios to explain it, none of which would come near the truth. He also knew that just the presence of the whip would be a deterrent to Willie disobeying him, and that was an added benefit of the object. Its real purpose would never be known by Willie or anyone else. They would never know the blood on the whip was his own. For Barnabas Collins had found a new way to quell the blood lust that brought him to the brink that night in Josette's room, when he hovered over the sleeping figure of Victoria Winters.

**The End**


End file.
